Her discomfort eases my irritation; at least I’m not alone in my feelings of embarrassment.
“Spence,” I warn, eyes still glued to the stack of invoices, contracts, and other documents that I’m in no mood to review today.
I’ve been told more times than I can count that I need to enter this century and move to paperless. But extensive screen time triggers the tinnitus from unexplained hearing loss in my left ear. Caffeine and alcohol exacerbate the constant ringing, too. All I can do is try to reduce the triggers.
Unfortunately, I don’t have a coping mechanism for the trigger that has just walked into my office. Any bit of concentration I could’ve mustered this afternoon evaporates like cool rain hitting hot concrete.
Spencer’s disbelieving voice pitches an octave higher. “Really? You don’t knowThe Vampire Diaries?”
I look up from my desk, locking my eyes onto my brother. I refuse to give in to the overwhelming tug coming from the tension headache in human form whose stare burns into the side of my head.
Spencer blows out a long breath. “I would let Damon Salvatore do anything he wants to me. And Caroline, too, of course. Oh, and Klaus, or Elijah, or Ele—”
“Spencer,” I hiss louder, a practice from when we were kids that persists to this day. In a normal voice, I say, “Not everyone has seen every movie ever made like you have.”
He throws his hands into the air. “It is not a movie.”
Isla mumbles something that sounds likevezamos. It means nothing to me.
Spencer brightens, every ounce of annoyance melting off him. “Team Stefan or Damon?” he asks.
“Damon, obviously,” she replies, with a strong eye roll as if the question is offensive.
I’d forgotten that about her from the night we met. Isla can’t hide a single emotion from her face to save her life. It’s why I was so confused when I didn’t hear from her after that night. I’d thought we’d connected, at least as much as two teenagers could.
It was one night a lifetime ago, something I thought about when I caught glimpses of her competing on TV. When Spence told me he was considering Isla as his new pairs partner, I hada momentwhere that old shame and heartbreak rushed back in. A remnant of emotion that I’ve clearly never dealt with, having told no one in my life about meeting Isla.
My reaction to her now has nothing to do with our past and everything to do with the hurricane she blew in on this morning. And the fact that I can’t catch my breath around her. Both of which will subside. I’m sure of it.
“Okay, now I know this partnership will work.” Spencer strides over and hooks his arm in Isla’s. She stiffens for a millisecond before giving in to the contact. “I had you pegged as a Stefan girl. All that brooding you like to do.”
Her lips part, like she can’t believe what’s coming out of Spencer’s mouth, but he continues, oblivious to her reaction. “My brother is a total Klaus. He hasn’t met his Caroline yet, or at least that’s my prediction. Diana, his ex-wife, was more of a Katherine, if you ask me.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. My brother’s secret vampire show language means nothing to me, and I hate not being able to follow the conversation. Usually, I only lose the thread of conversations in loud places, like bars or hockey games, when the background noise makes it too difficult to decipher words over the ringing in my ear. It’s a hindrance I’ve learned to adapt to over the years, but despite having had a lifetime with my brother, I still haven’t learned how to interpret all his references.
“Really.” Isla tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, drawing every bit of my attention to her.
Her beauty bowls me over again like a punch to the gut. For days, I’d played out in my head the potential conversation where I set expectations with her, but our meeting this morning has complicated my plans.
“You’ll see,” Spencer says, smiling conspiratorially at her. Did I mention how I hate this situation? “Most people think he’s a moody little shit, but deep down, he just wants to belov—”
“Okay!” I interrupt, shoving my seat out and clapping my hands together. Their heads snap toward me with the sound. “As much as I love hearing you talk about fictional people, I have a lot of work to do.” My hand lands on the mound of papers to emphasize my busyness. “Can we get to the point?”
Spencer mutters something under his breath that twists Isla’s lips briefly before she catches me noticing. I’m grateful that her lips form a flat line again. I don’t know whether I’d survive the sight of her full smile.
“We’re here to talk about Isla’s coaching gig. She has years of experience, so she can finally replace that vacancy from Linda retiring, what, three years ago?”
A loud bumping song blasts into the room, the regrettably catchy ringtone of Spencer’s phone. It’s from some tennis movie he loves. He blasts it to hype himself up before he competes.
Spencer pulls his phone out of a pocket that I can’t imagine existing in those pants. His posture deflates at whatever he sees on the screen. “Shit, I gotta take this, but you two talk. I’ll be back.”
He walks out of the room, taking every last bit of oxygen with him and leaving me here alone with Isla Covington, who studies me like I’m a challenging puzzle. I actively fight the urge to squirm beneath her assessing gaze.
“So, you’re Spencer’s curmudgeon-y brother.” She holds her hands up in the universal sign for innocence. “His words.”
I collapse into my seat. “Comparing anyone to my brother makes them seem like a curmudgeon.”
“Sure, but in this case, I’m thinking it’s accurate.”
